Her Hand
by Rytanya
Summary: ‘Perfect fit. As always’... WARNING: Character Death. Slightly AU.


A/N: Hey all… this is my 1st CSI fanfic.. Actually it can't be called a fanfic seeing that I never really intended on writing this piece as one.. this piece of story actually started as a class assignment called "visual trigger". We were supposed to choose a single picture which inspires a story. And I happen to find the picture in episode "City of Dolls" where Danny holds Lindsay's hand a little too long. Yeah.. and well… anyways, this story got me an 'A' in the assigment, and I thought… why not celebrate it by posting it up for all the fans to read. But mind you this is written in present tense (part of the assignment). Oh yes.. It's quite sad. Most of the girls in my class cried when my lecturer read this out loud. So, you've been warned. Proceed at your own risk.

Her Hand

Danny Messer buries his hands deep in his jeans pocket as he stands over the damp earth. A soft breeze blows and he shivers as a tingle flows down his spine. Stubs of hair can be seen along his jaw line indicating a lack interest in life. Dark circles around his dull eyes indicate the lack of sleep. The far away look on his face indicates a sense of longing. A longing that can never be achieved.

Danny closes his eyes and inhales the fresh air. A smile carves itself on his otherwise tired face. A memory drifts pass slowly as if tempting him to succumb to it. And succumbs he did. Danny opens his eyes and finds himself on the busy streets of New York City.

"Danny?" A soft voice calls out from behind him.

Danny turns and smiles at the woman in front of him. Lindsay is wearing jeans and a light blue camisole with a black sweater over it. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun with a few tendrils framing her face.

"Hey 'Montana'…" he greets her in his Staten Island accent as he walks up to her and takes her hand in his.

'Perfect fit. As always' He says to himself.

Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light and Danny finds himself sitting in his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He turns to his right, looking out the passenger seat window to the gas station store where Lindsay currently is. He chuckles to himself when he notices the large amount of chips and crackers she is carrying to the cashier. He turns back to the front, muttering to himself about how lucky he is to have found someone like Lindsay Monroe.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

"BANG!!"

Screams erupt from the store. Danny turns sharply in time to see a man run out of the store and into a van. Fearing the worst, he slams open the car door and dashes into the store.

Blood. Thick, red blood. HER thick, red blood.

"Linds!" he shouts as he sees her figure on the floor lying in a pool of blood.

He drops down on his knees and pulls her up to his chest, her blood now printed on him.

Lindsay looks up to the man and reaches a shaky hand to his face. Danny's hand meets hers halfway and he holds it to his cheeks. Lindsay smiles sadly.

"I-I'm sorry…" She chokes.

Her once fair hand, now covered in blood. Her once strong hand, lays weak in his. Her once warm hand, turns cold. Her once lively hand, slips from his and onto the floor, lifeless. Danny shuts his eyes tightly as tears begins to flow freely.

"Danny?" A voice drifted to his ears, bringing him back to the present.

Danny opens his eyes and sees Louie, his brother, standing beside him.

"It's time to go," He informs.

Danny nods mutely at him. Louie smiles sadly and nods towards the grave as a sign of respect before turning around and walking away. Danny turns back to the front. His right hand clutches something in his pocket and he traces the outline of the object with his fingers.

"You wanna know something funny? That day, when we were on our way to see my parents, that day, you begged to go in that store," He begins, taking the small object from his pocket and admiring it as it glistens in the setting sun, "That was the day I wanted to ask you to marry me… I guess I'll never know what your answer will be, huh?"

Danny kneels down by the grave. He unhooks the dog tag around his neck and slips in the ring. He hangs the chain around the cross and places a soft kiss on the stone. He stands up and begins walking away. 20 steps later, he halts and looks over his shoulder.

"Happy Birthday 'Montana'" he whispers, before turning back and walking away from the grave, from the ring.

The ring that never made it on the fourth finger of her hand.


End file.
